Twisting her hips and kicking out with her feet to stay out of her enemy’s frantic reach, Delphene held tight to the greasy hair. Using all her strength, she yanked the behemoth again, and as it hit the ground she had a fraction of a second to look back at Cade.
Black as midnight, the werewolf launched himself forward, tackling his final foe. Seeing he was well in hand, Delphene pivoted and threw her blade with unbelievable precision that only comes with centuries of fighting experience. It flew true and sank into Henifedran’s chest at the same time Jarrett’s sword swept in to take the head.
The headless body stood oddly for a second. As it began to fall, the remains turned to ash on the way down. There was no breeze to blow away what was left, so the pile of blackened remains stood out against the dry, reddened earth.
Taking no time to watch Henifedran’s final demise, Jarrett pivoted and stabbed his remaining enemy squirming on the ground and gasping for breath. The greater demon didn’t wriggle long.
Allowing Jarrett the final blow, Delphene rushed to fortify Cade in case any others appeared. As she got close, the demon below Cade burst into ashes and coated his black fur like soot. Cade’s body thumped to the ground as the barrier between him and the sand disappeared.
“He’s gone, Cher. They all are.”
Cade turned. His eyes were still glowing molten, and his fur was matted down by the sticky black ichor that pumped through demons in place of blood. A fair amount of his own blood was mixed with that. His temper still burned hot inside him.
Cade rolled to his back and slowed his breathing. Now that the battle was done, he was more aware of the stinging bite in his shoulder. The jagged wounds in his back began to heal and knit together.
Delphene turned her back to him while Jarrett limped over to join them. Reaching down, Jarrett offered his brother a hand up. Cade waved it away, knowing he needed to make the change back, and also needed a minute before he could. Jarrett understood and waited stoically.
After a few minutes, Cade rolled to his knees and willed his body back to his human form. His fur flattened out and seemed to melt away as it reshaped itself into skin. Legs cracked, bending back to the angles for his human body. Finally, with cracking sounds his spine straightened out, and Cade was once more a man. Fresh clothes hit his back when Delphene tossed them at him.
“You keep losing it, mon'ami, and you won’t have any clothes left,” Delphene said with a cold bite in her tone as she limped away to give him time to get dressed. Cade noticed the raw wound on her leg and winced inside.
Unaware of Cade’s shifting mentality, Jarrett eyed him. With his sword resting his shoulder, Jarrett tried to figure out what to say.
“What?” Cade asked harshly as he pulled on the jeans Delphene had thrown at him.
“Better?”
“Better what?” Cade snarled.
“Do you feel any better? Because honestly, you look like hell.”
Cade said nothing and craned his head in an attempt to see the worst of his many wounds.
“She’s not wrong. You almost got Delphene and I killed. You didn’t even think, you reacted.”
“It got the job done, and you look fit and whole to me,” Cade observed.
“Nice that you notice after you threw your bike in my path,” Jarrett replied derisively.
Cade shook his head and turned his back to Jarrett. This time Jarrett winced when he saw the jagged cuts and bites. His brother’s wounds were more substantial than Cade let on.
The demon claws had torn down to the muscle, and while the bleeding had already tapered off because of their ability to regenerate, the crimson fluid still covered the whole of Cade’s back. He’d lost enough of it to weaken him significantly. Plus, the archdemon’s poison would affect Cade for some time yet. It would burn in his bloodstream. A human would’ve died from the wounds before he even made it to the hospital. Impressed Cade was standing and had downed a greater demon and an archdemon besides, Jarrett found he was still discouraged. He again searched for the right words but couldn’t find them.
Jarrett couldn’t hold the rash actions against his brother. He understood the anger, the pain, and the inner conflict that came with them. The emotions were consuming. It had taken Jarrett two centuries to find any sort of control. He blamed himself. The fire inside his brother started with Collett for sure, but Jarrett had added fuel.
Figuring he was no good at psychobabble, Jarrett opted for a blunt reminder. “You could have avoided staining the ground with your blood if you would have used a sword instead of your body.”
When Cade lifted his head skyward and let go of a breath of frustration, Jarrett knew the reminder was enough. It was hard to care about logistics when you didn’t care if you survived. His instinct told him to take his brother back to Colorado and subject him to the same sappy treatment he’d endured.
“Maybe it’s time to—”
Cade shook his head, cutting him off. “I can’t,” he whispered honestly. “I just can’t face them.” There was desperation in his words. A desperation his brother knew well. The tone in his words was so profound, Jarrett’s own shadows of pain resurfaced.
Cade turned to explain and stopped cold. His brows drew in as he squinted, and his head tilted curiously. Surprised, Cade could only stare at Jarrett’s sword.
“Let me see that,” he ordered softly.
“What?” his brother replied.
“Your sword. Let me see it,” his tone intensifying.
Curious, Jarrett swung the large weapon from his shoulder and handed it hilt first to his twin.
Cade rubbed at the gold and silver scroll work with his thumb as he examined the top symbol in the hilt with reverence.
“What are you doing?” Delphene sauntered over to them. “By the way, Wolf,” she said to Jarrett, “that big demon counts as mine. My blade struck first.”
Confused by Cade, but drawn into Delphene’s banter, Jarrett turned, noted the trail of blood on her temple, and cocked a single brow. “You must have hit your head too hard to see straight. Your little knife only hit after I took Henifedran’s head. So that point goes to me.”
“Non, the dagger struck true. I had a distant angle, and I saw the timing of who was first much better than you. I’ll give you half for the little one I set up for you, too.”
“I don’t—” Jarrett started to say, but Cade’s quiet words interrupted him.
“This was on her neck,” Cade explained as he ran his thumb over the mark.
“What was on whose neck?” Delphene asked.
“Collett,” Jarrett answered, immediately grasping the reference by the tone in his brother’s proclamation.
“Up near the hairline, behind her ear,” Cade explained as he moved his free hand to show them where on his own neck. “I’d forgotten. I only saw it once when she was sleeping. It was dark, and she had another dream. It was only a second, so I’d forgotten.”
Jarrett moved closer to the sword to see the symbol at the top better. He was familiar with the weapon of course. He’d had it for over 100 years.
It was a beautiful bastard sword of superior craftsmanship and had served him well. The hilt had two separate pieces of silver and gold expertly twisted and tied together with the red-hot heat from a forge in an era long past. Each of the two metals knotted at the ends in a circular shape and wound back around to create the cross piece. Inside the pommel’s circle was an engraved symbol etched into a blue stone. Jarrett always considered the mark decorative.
“Where did you get this?” Cade questioned.
“I…” Jarrett hesitated.
Cade gave him no quarter. “Where?” his tone was eager now.
“A man. A traveler…” Jarrett wondered how he could explain what happened that day.
“When?”
Jarrett’s brows came together. “I don’t know. A long time ago. What does it matter?”
“Because she had this same symbol on her neck, twisted lines and all,” he said pointing
to the top scrollwork symbol. “It was a scar of some kind burned into her skin.” He looked back to the weapon, trying to see it for everything it could mean. “So yes, to me it matters. Tell me, Jarrett. Please,” he pleaded.
Jarrett focused on the symbol again as if he expected the weapon to start talking and spilling all the secrets they wanted to know. He explained as best he could instead. “He was on the road in Europe. I went there when I was…” he paused and heaved a breath out. “The first time I truly tried to get away from Him. Niall, or Bellig, or whoever he is.”
“How many times did you try, Cher?” Delphene questioned earnestly.
“Enough to learn to quit trying,” Jarrett answered, annoyed.
“I don’t understand,” Cade said trying to bring the conversation back to the sword, “He gave it to you?”
“No. Yes. Kinda,” Jarrett replied.
As Jarrett had done minutes before, Cade lifted a single questioning brow.
“I came across a man on the road in Romania, and he was under attack. They were demons. I still don’t know if he understood that or not. When I came along he was trying to use that sword to fend them off. He couldn’t even wield the damn thing, could barely lift it. They disarmed him without any effort.” Jarrett shrugged. “So I picked it up.”
“You helped him,” Delphene guessed.
“When it was over I went to hand it back to him, but the man was gone.”
“Gone?” Delphene and Cade asked at the same time.
“Gone. I thought maybe he ran off, afraid. I called after him. Told him to come back, and he could have the sword.”
“You never found him,” stated Cade.
“I couldn’t even find a trail, and…”
“And?” Delphene encouraged.
“Never mind.” Jarrett reached out for the weapon.
Cade handed it back, but held onto it when Jarrett gripped it, their eyes meeting. “Tell me, Brother, what happened?”
“I heard a voice in my head,” he said seriously. “I know it sounds crazy, but it was there as clear as you’re talking to me. It told me, A great tool deserves an equally great craftsman to see that it reaches its potential. At the time—” Jarrett focused on the sword that had saved him so many times, “I needed it, and so I didn’t ask questions.”
“What does it mean?” Cade asked, shaking his head and finally letting go of his hold. “I don’t get it. I swear this is the same mark, but why? How is it possible you would have a weapon with an identical mark as Collett from a disappearing traveler?”
“Maybe it’s not the same?” Delphene offered.
“Even if your right and they are the same, what difference does it make? She’s gone, Cade,” Jarrett said.
“I don’t know, but it’s something. There’s this thing inside me. There has to be more,” Cade answered dejectedly.
“We could take it to Cynda,” Delphene urged.
Cade moved past them toward the bikes saying, “It doesn't really matter, Jarrett’s right. It won’t change anything.”
While he was right, Delphene couldn’t help but feel sad for Cade. She met Jarrett’s eyes.
“I have a better question that does change things?” Jarrett said firmly to Cade’s back.
He turned.
“How in the hell did Henifedran come back so quickly?”
“Any banished demon can be called back if someone has a cursed relic the demon is magically bonded to,” answered Cade.
“Maybe our Victor has such a thing,” Delphene offered.
Jarrett shook his head. “He doesn’t have the power to wield it. It takes a lot of magical energy to call up a demon. Victor’s just a patsy. Someone else must be setting themselves up as the new leader, and that someone has Bellig’s things.
Cade sighed. “I guess it was inevitable. We’ve all lived long enough to know there’s always someone ready to fill the void of leadership.”
“We better find out who is taking the reins then and deal with it before they reorganize,” said Delphene.
“No. We keep looking for Victor. He’ll know who it is. We’ll deal with them after that,” Cade insisted.
Both Jarrett and Delphene had no solid argument against his reasoning, even if they didn’t agree.
Chapter 15
With his heart racing and gasping for breath, Victor shot straight up in his bed. Sweat covered his skin and his fingers clutched at his throat. He could still feel the scraping claws and tight, gripping hand, squeezing. Fear caused him to tremble as the vague dream played out again in his thoughts. He saw his existence come to an end.
Donning his robe, for he was too fastidious not to, he paced the room and thought about the vision. If it was a vision of foresight he needed to change something in his plans, but what? What choice or event had brought on the dream? Was it even real or did he imagine it from fear?
That was the problem with his power. He never knew for sure when it came in sleep. He planned, calculated, and assessed. Victor couldn’t figure out how to change the outcome.
“What plagues you? Could it be you’ve lost your only useful skill? Can you not see the future, Victor?” questioned a familiar and cynical voice from the corner near the window. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you didn’t figure out what was going to happen to me a few months ago.”
Victor froze in his pacing. His eyes widened, and a shuddering breath escaped him. Whether from relief or terror, even he was unsure. Chills raced across his skin, causing the flesh to pucker up and the hair to stand on end. It was as if a thousand baby spiders crawled over his spine. It had been so long since he heard that voice.
“Tell me, Victor, if you’re unable to foresee my destiny anymore, what use are you to me?” his master questioned with a smooth tone.
Whirling around, Victor fell prostrate to his knees. “Master, you’re back.”
Bellig lifted his brows. “You didn’t see that I would be? Once more I ask, what good are you too me?”
“Oh, course I knew,” he insisted desperately.
“Right,” Bellig said with disbelief. “Get up you fool.”
Victor scrambled to stand but still refused to meet Bellig’s eerie eyes. “Sir, I tried to…”
“Don’t bother with your pithy excuses. I have no temper for them now.”
“Yes sir,” he replied at once.
“I’ve decided a new direction is needed,” Bellig stated.
Victor swallowed hard, worried he may be facing death right now.
“I want a phase demon,” Bellig proclaimed, changing the subject and surprising Victor as if his master hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere after being gone for months.
“A p-phase demon?” he stammered, confused and trying to keep up, but knowing he better succeed or face punishment.
“Yes, since Henifedran has been useless to me twice, I want something…better.”
Horrible foreboding snaked through Victor and his mind fell back on all he knew of the elusive creatures. A phase demon didn’t exist the same way others of their kind did. They were an essence, shadowy ghosts with no corporeal form. Because of that trait, they had no known weakness, and they were barely manageable.
If an agreement was formed with them, their chaotic nature resulted in very brief periods of obedience. Most understood that more often than not, phase demons turned on those who summoned them when they got bored.
Phase demons used an unwilling person’s weaknesses to possess them for short bursts of time. During that time the phase demons brought out negative emotions to feed on and gained strength from hidden things like hate, fear, anger, and jealousy. Phase demons drove unwilling victims insane and would create a need to act violently on poisoned passions. Willing victims under the demon's tutelage committed unspeakable atrocities and could host the demon indefinitely. Legends among their kind named some of the world’s worst criminals and tyrants as hosts to these maleficent entities.
“No. Actually, I want two. Wait. Thre
e,” Bellig corrected.
Victor refocused as disbelief shot through him. “Three phase demons? My Lord—” He closed off any further comment when Bellig glared at him with pure promised pain in his eyes. He bowed his head in subdued acquiescence. “Three my Lord. I’ll try––”
“Leave that to me,” Bellig said cutting him off. “I’ll finish the lycans. You will follow through with my other plans. I’ll meet you there in one week.”
“Yes sir,” he said with a bow and hurried to leave his own room.
“Fail me again and I will let the phase demons have you first,” Bellig promised darkly as Victor retreated.
Bellig, disgusted as always in Victor’s weakness, ground his teeth to pull back his temper. He still needed the useless being, so killing him would only hinder him. Bellig had lost his gift of premonition when he abandoned his role as a guardian. He lost a great many things that day because of Haki’s punishment. Justice had stolen his memory and his power to influence others to his cause. And my sword, he thought bitterly.
Some of his memories were still missing, including the one memory Bellig needed to change everything and to finish what he started. His benefactor could only gift Bellig with partial memories and knowledge. The Great Opposer could only offer information he personally knew. As a result, Bellig was forced to pander to beings like Victor to seek out what he wanted.
Refusing to think on it further, Bellig pushed the hatred for his former comrades out of his mind. He needed to focus, to carry out his next task, for it would challenge even him. Thrusting his hand out and using his power, Bellig manifested candles from nothing. Pushing his hand around, he used them to form a circle around him, then sent out enough energy to light each one in rapid succession. Removing his suit jacket, tie, and button up shirt with a flick of his wrist, he revealed in the strength of The Opposer gifts. The power of his magic now was far greater than any he’d been given as a guardian.
The Truth of Victory: A Powers of Influence Novel Page 14